


A Heartbeat Away

by 1lostone



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Author adores their giftee and hopes you like your prezzie!, Awkward Boners, Fluff and Smut, I had to go pick up something and, I thought that was sad., M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Mistaken Identity, Mutual Pining, POV Derek Hale, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Secret Santa!, Semi-Public Sex, This has nothing really to do with the holiday season, author uses too many italics, because while I don't normally go to huge bookstores like that, but not detailed, i blame jlm for everything, it was a graveyard and, oh and my apologies to the tag wranglers., oh yeah shameless plug for BAM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21705580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone
Summary: Derek knows that Stiles is up to something. Stiles isalwaysup to something.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 21
Kudos: 367
Collections: Cat’s Holiday Exchange 2019, Lost's Gift Fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arya_sheppard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arya_sheppard/gifts).



> A/N: BB I am sorry for my incipient trashhood. I desperately wanted to work on a poly Draco/Hermione/Harry fic for you, but it is very long and no chance of finishing in order for the gift exchange. However if I ever finish it, I’ll lob it your way with apologies. Please take this humble offering instead. I haven't written Sterek in awhile, so I’m kind of out of practice. :D <3 From an anon prompt on [tumblr. ](https://thesterekpromptsite.tumblr.com/post/153636579728/so-ive-had-this-idea-for-a-while-now-d-since#notes)

******

_ Ker-thunk. Ker-thunk. Ker-thunk. _

Derek frowned, looking up from his novel. He had to blink over the tops of his glasses (Stiles always seemed to find it hilarious that a werewolf preferred to use reading glasses) to see until his eyes adjusted to the slightly brighter light of his living room Derek couldn’t help it. Reading off an iPad gave him a headache unless he used glasses. And, while he was more than capable of buying and reading all the books he wanted to, on his iPad he could read absolute, complete filth without anyone being the wiser. Ergo, glasses, iPad, and a trashy bodice ripper that he would deny upon death that he even  _ owned _ , let alone read. 

Twice.

_ Ker- _ **_thunk_ ** .

Goddamnit. 

Derek’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the side of Stiles’ face. For most of his life, Derek had been taught how to ignore the cacophony of sounds humans made. Their bodies were so uncontrolled, and unbelievably loud. From stomach grumbles, to weird sounds in the back of their throats, to farts that they  _ thought _ were quiet that absolutely weren’t, humans were just . . . obnoxious. It took a lot of practice for a wolf to dull one’s senses, and when Derek managed to let something pass through those years of hard-won practice, his first instinct was frustration.

Well, if nothing else, that told him how far he’d come in the years since. . . everything. Not so long ago, his first instinct would have been bared fangs and a wolfed-out face. 

Still, the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat from across the room was distracting him from his romance novel, and that shit was  _ not  _ endearing. Derek had been waiting for  _ Unreachable _ to hit Amazon for what felt like years. The author, Wolfe S. McKinley’s, first book  _ Untouchable  _ had been an instant bestseller. Derek had picked it up on a whim in an airport in Mexico, and had read it all in one sitting, with a highly-amused Cora giving him snide remarks about the dialogue she read over his shoulder. Derek had never in his life dreamed he’d be a fan of the genre, but the author wrote the hero, Donovan, with such clarity and wit that Derek found himself snorting to himself on the plane at his and the plucky romance interest, Steven’s, sarcastic dialogue. The two had been thrown together time and time again, and while the plot was kind of trite, there had just been something about the story that Derek couldn’t put his finger on.

It had resonated. 

There was something about Donovan... He both wanted to smack him upside the head and help him get with Steven; all the pining and misunderstandings were. Well. Derek would say that they were getting old, but he loved that shit. Each time they almost kissed, or almost blurted out their feelings for one another, it made his mushy heart shiver with happiness. 

He would take that knowledge to his _grave_.

“Do you need something?” Stiles looked up from his computer with an eyebrow raised. Derek was always shocked when he saw how much Stiles’ face had changed. He’d been a weird kid, flaily and awkward and always reeking faintly of hormones and Adderall. Now, he’d grown into the shoulders, and had sprouted up another foot. His body was lean and muscular, and Derek found himself forcing his mind away from thoughts that verged on the inappropriate. 

The rest of the pack had left hours before, and Stiles had been deep into something on the Bestiary, so much so that Lydia had whispered to Derek to just to let him work until he came up for air. Derek hadn’t really cared. A working Stiles was a quiet Stiles. Usually. Derek cast his gaze back down to the iPad. 

> _ Donovan knew that he was fucked.  _
> 
> _ There was so much blood that it had pooled around the waistband of his jeans, leaving a dark, tacky stain on the concrete floor. Weirdly enough, it didn’t hurt anymore. He knew that it should, but it didn’t. He felt his heartbeat slow, and knew that this was really bad. He was cold, a bone-deep coldness that he knew he wouldn't be able to shake. He shouldn’t be there.  _
> 
> _ “Shiiiiiit.” _
> 
> _ He’d purposefully lied to Steven so that he wouldn’t worry. Now look at him. Cut open and bleeding--- _

Derek set the iPad down and stood up, stretching as his joints popped and groaned. 

_ Ker- _ **_thunk thunk_ ** _. Ker- _ **_thunk thunk_ ** _.  _

“What  _ is _ it?” Derek spun to face Stiles, looking down at him and frowning. The iPad landed on his coffee table with a clatter. 

“Uh--” 

Stiles heartrate had increased so much that Derek felt like it was ringing in his ears. His eyes narrowed. Stiles was hiding something. He had to be.  _ No one  _ sounded that nervous unless they had fucked up- or were about to fuck up.

Stiles’ smile was forced. He ran his hand through his hair, grown out enough so that the top was curly, rather than the buzz cut he'd sported through most of high school. One curl was out of place, springing madly away from the rest of its fellows, defying gravity and the laws of physics. “What’s up, big guy?” 

Derek blinked, rolling his eyes at himself. He tilted his head a little to the left, then slowly took off and folded his glasses. He stared at Stiles, frowning. 

**_KER-THUNK._ **

Derek supposed that it was a sign that Dr. Simmons’ therapy had worked because his first inclination wasn’t to react with anger. It had taken awhile, but he found that being angry all the time was  _ exhausting _ . It occurred to him that Stiles wasn’t fucking around. Whatever was wrong, it was really  _ wrong _ ; or, at least it was enough that when he caught the faint sourness of the other man’s nervousness, Derek immediately regretted being so blunt. he took a step forward, trying to get his thoughts straight in his head before he blurted out something stupid. 

The silence stretched, and Derek watched as Stiles brought his hand up to the back of his neck, breaking the awkward stalemate of a stare. Derek realized that he had been so busy staring like a complete idiot, he had not responded to Stiles’ question. 

“Your heart.”

Stiles flushed almost down to his Adam’s apple. “My. . ..what?” Derek Caught himself almost reaching out to touch Stiles' chest, as though he could take some of Stiles' nervousness away from him just through his touch. 

When Derek’s phone went off, they both jumped. Derek turned away, almost gratefully, realizing that once again he had lost time while staring at Stiles. Derek hoped that he hadn’t noticed how physically close they had become.Their lips had been so close to one another that Derek had felt the warm puff of Stiles’ breath on his own. 

And what the fuck was  _ that _ ? Since when did Derek want to kiss  _ Stiles _ ? He glanced at his phone screen, brows knitting together in confusion.

It was Argent. “You still on for tonight?” 

Shit. Fuck. He was supposed to be with Argent on a stakeout, not sitting here making googly eyes at Stiles. “Yeah. I’ll be there in a few minutes." He bent over to pick up his iPad, closing the apps and tossing it in his backpack. 

Derek barely listened as Stiles muttered something about it being late, and found himself staring blindly at his iPad, and grunting a goodbye as Stiles left so quickly that he almost tripped out into the hallway. Argent hung up, and Derek was able to push out most of his scattered thoughts to the back of his mind. 

Now wasn’t the time to think about his personal shit. He had stuff to do. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

****

“Can I get you anything else, sir?” 

Derek jumped, his coffee spilling out of his travel mug onto his hand. He only realized he had been sitting there, frozen like a complete dumbass as he read when he realized the barista had just asked him a question. She was professional enough not to laugh in his face, but Derek couldn’t help the blush that flooded his cheeks. Of course, the fact that he was blushing at reading what amounted to erotica in public was neither here nor there. 

Taking pity on him, the barista smiled. “Good book?” 

Derek nodded and managed to get himself under some semblance of control. “Yeah. Thanks, I’m good.” He watched as she side-eyed him, giving him a once over, and refused to admit that he knew he was half hard behind his jeans. He was going under the assumption that if he ignored it, it wasn't creepy or weird that he was being inappropriate in a public place. He was far enough out of the shop traffic that no one was like, side-eyeing him or anything. 

Thank god. 

She nodded, winked (Derek only wanted to die a little, thanking the fact that he had turned the iPad’s brightness down- at least she couldn’t see what he was reading!) and moved to clear another table. 

Derek sat up, assuming a more nonchalant pose: something that read ‘totally not reading porn!’ to any bystanders, took a sip of his coffee, and found his place. 

> _Donovan hadn’t expected Steven to be so bold. He was used to Steven’s mouth spouting off complete and utter bullshit, and if he had ever thought of this moment, he had probably expected that it would be rushed and furtive, but Steven seemed to be taking his goddamn time. Donovan’s jeans kept his ankles from moving too much, and his boots meant he couldn’t just kick them off and spread his legs like he wanted to. Seeing Steven on his knees in front of him, the dark, red lips stretched around his cock, made Donovan curse under his breath and close his eyes._
> 
> _Closing his eyes was a mistake. The feel of the hot mouth around him, the slight tease of front teeth against the head of his dick made him moan out loud, unable to bite back the sound._
> 
> _Donovan reached down with a hand that shook, pressing his thumb against that red, swollen mouth. Steven opened a little further, and Donovan started to thrust, slowly, feeding Steven his cock until the other man dug his nails into Donovan’s bare asscheeks, choking and coughing as Donovan brushed against the back of---_

A notification flashed at the top of his book, and Derek shifted awkwardly in his seat. He only had a few notifications that would pop up when he was reading. Anything from Cora or the pack he saw immediately. The other notification was a Google alert for the name Wolfe S. McKinley. This notification was just a tweet,, but the name on the link had Derek tapping over without a thought. 

His mouth dropped open. 

_Wolfe S. McKinley was in Beacon County._

Derek double and triple checked the date, pretty sure he was seeing things. How had he not known this? Wolfe S. McKinley _never_ did autographs. The only interviews done did not have pictures accompanying them. Wolfe S. McKinley would post on Twitter all the time, and the Twitter account was verified, but no one knew what the author looked like. 

In this day and age, that was downright insane. Some said quirky. Some said hipster. Derek didn't really give a shit; he figured that the book sales spoke for themselves. Still, meeting him? Getting an autograph? 

Derek’s gaze caught on the time. In the few seconds since the tweet was posted, it already had several fan interactions. Someone asked what BH was, and someone else BAM, and as Derek sat there with his heart thudding in his chest, he realized he only had about an hour to get across town to the Books A Million if he wanted to meet this author. 

Derek gulped the coffee, tossed a tip on the table to appease his embarrassment, and ran to his car. Derek knew he wouldn’t have been doing this if it wasn’t Wolfe S McKinley. He didn’t get weak-kneed around movie stars, and wasn’t impressed by very much. He and Cora had once run into Benedict Cumberbatch at a gas station in San Francisco, and while Cora had spoken in tones only high enough to be heard by dogs, Derek had just smiled and nodded, touched at the way the actor had gone out of his way to make his kid sister feel special. 

Derek frowned at the parking lot. The bookstore had downsized like everything else given the onset of Amazon, but the parking lot size hadn’t changed. Normally you could park right next to the door, even during their rush hour, and be in and out in ten minutes. Now, the place was crammed. Cars had even parked on the grassy areas near the back entrance. The stripmall across the street was also full. 

“Holy _shit_.” 

How had Derek not known about this? It wasn’t like JK Rowling was autographing books at The Last Bookstore. McKinley fans were obviously out in droves to meet their favorite writer.

It took him awhile to find a parking spot, and another twenty minutes to get to the back of the line. Derek craned his neck, frowning, trying to get a glimpse of the elusive author. The line snaked through bookshelves, towards the back of the store. The line was long, but it was moving fairly quickly. Derek checked the time on his phone. It was 2:43 pm. According to the tweet, he would only be here for a few more minutes, but surely after all that the author would clear out the poor yokels standing in line. Derek tapped his fingers against his thigh, nervous for some reason that he couldn’t put his finger on.

The line moved, slowly. Finally, Derek could stretch his neck, peering over heads in order to see something. To his shock, there was a partitioned-off area near the middle of the store, and McKinley was situated behind it, so that people couldn’t see behind the curtain. Derek rolled his eyes. If this were a book, it would be a completely unnecessary plot device. Still, it was effective. The energy in the air was electric. 

A girl in front of him squealed, clutching her phone to her chest. “Oh my goooood. He’s so sweet!” 

Derek opened up his mouth to ask her what happened, but before he could, the girl’s friend sucked her teeth, glaring. “I can’t believe Amalia wouldn’t let us stand in line with her. She wouldn’t even have known who Wolfe was if I hadn’t loaned her _Untouchable_."

The line moved again. 

Derek realized, a little belatedly, that he could probably search up pictures of the author. Whatever the girl was looking at on her phone couldn't be that hidden. It was probably reblogged, or liked, or hastagged or whathave you. Whatever secrecy there had been had been blown wide open. Fans of his had to be posting pictures like crazy, but the curiosity he felt would be assuaged in person in ... oh damn. They were much closer. The line moved again. Derek felt his stomach give a little flutter of nerves and he forced himself not to awkwardly shift his weight. He was acting like a teenager. If he were anyone else, he'd be laughing his ass off at himself. 

“I’m never gonna talk to her again,” The girl frowned and turned to Derek. “You a fan? Or picking up something for your girlfriend?” 

Derek raised a brow. “No girlfriend. Getting the books signed for me.” He ignored the ‘oh em gee!’ looks the two teenagers gave each other, trying to see how close they were to the partitioned-off dais. His heart started beating more heavily; there was just one snake of the line to get through. The bookshelves they were standing in happened to be the Sci-Fi/Fantasy genre, and Derek found himself idly plucking interesting titles and stacking them to buy later. 

The matronly woman behind him smiled, leaning over to join the conversation. “This is such a kind thing for Wolfe S. McKinley to do. I heard a parent died from cancer, and that’s why the author is breaking their silence for Read for the Cure.” 

The teenage girls _awww_ ’d, and Derek was hard pressed not to _awww_ with them. He waited in line, ignoring the way he grew more and more anxious as he got closer. Part of him wanted to kill time by reading, to pick up where he had left off, but part didn’t want to read a sex scene around two kids and the soccer mom behind him. 

The line snaked around the final shelf, and hardback copies of both the first and second books were prominently displayed. Derek didn't have hardback copies, so he figured he'd add that to his stack of books. He waited, ignoring the buzz of conversation. It was fairly loud, given everything, and Derek's brow wrinkled as he thought he heard someone familiar. 

For a second, he thought he had heard Stiles. 

He rolled his eyes. Derek was losing his goddamn mind. Since the almost kiss, or whatever it had been a few days ago, Derek had done a truly epic amount of ignoring and avoidance, all things his therapist would _tsk_ at him over. Derek did give a cursory view of the line in front of him-- only about twenty people now!-- and concentrated on ignoring the sounds around him by using some of the techniques his mom, and later Laura had shown him. He flipped open the first book and grinned a little goofily at the inscription on the first page. 

> _**To S,** _
> 
> _**Thanks for everything; for keeping me sane. L, thanks for the boost of confidence to actually send this off to a publisher, and for helping me with the sex scenes. ;) To D, maybe one day I will have the guts to tell you everything.** _

Derek may or may not have sighed over the nerdy winky face inscribed there. It was ridiculously dorky, and absolutely adorab--

"You ready?" One of the bookstore workers smiled at him. "I can take those, sir. Mr. McKinley is only doing one autograph, and we ask that you do not use a flash if you take a picture. You can follow Jaydin there..." The woman took his books. Derek debated with himself for a moment, and decided to give the second one for McKinley's signature. Jaydin smiled at him and pointed to the stairs. 

Derek took a deep breath, put his shoulders back, reminded himself that he was not a thirteen year old teenager, walked through the curtain....

... and froze. 

Stiles. 

He didn't see Derek for a second. He was faced away, and slightly in profile as he smiled cheesily with the girls that had been in front of him, clicking through the pictures to make sure they were good, and that the girls were happy with them. "Just make sure you use the good filters, " He said and the girls all squeaked and hugged him. 

Derek felt like turning and running. 

This was awful. This was impossible. Stiles was going to turn, and _see him_ and---

Stiles turned and came to a complete stop. 

_**KER-THUNK.** _

Stiles, who was rarely still, had frozen so completely, his aide gave Derek a deathglare. Derek made himself take a step forward, ignoring the shock, ignoring the hurt way something in his chest crumpled when he saw the panic on Stiles' face. There were people behind him, and Jaydin, the fake smile gone as he picked up on the weird tension in the small curtained booth, also stared at Derek as though he had done something awful. 

"Uh. Hi there. Wolfe S. McKinley." Stiles' lips stretched in a terribly fake grin and held out his hand for the book. Feeling as though he was someone else, Derek handed him the book, and stared in shock as Stiles scrawled something in it with red sharpie. "Should I make it out to someone special?" His laugh was just as forced.

"Derek," Derek whispered, trying to force his brain to work. This shouldn't be such a big deal. He was acting weird, and felt guilty that Stiles obviously felt uncomfortable. Somehow, he made it through the line, and out the other end of the curtain, and to the check out (even the first woman was giving him the stink-eye) to pay for his books.

He couldn't bring himself to read it. 

Derek made it to his car, and to his loft and to his couch without being able to shake the fact that no matter how much Derek thought he'd grown, how much work he'd done on his mental health, how much he'd apologized, and talked through things with Scott, and worked with the locals to make sure that Beacon Hills was safe; no matter how much he thought he had finally, _finally_ earned his place in the pack after everything he'd fucked up when Scott and Stiles and the rest had been in high school, Derek had believed that he belonged. That he was home. That they had stopped lying to him, and leaving the 'failwolf' out of things. That they trusted him. 

It hurt to know how wrong he was.

TBC.... (I promise. I just have a tiny bit to post, but family is being annoying and I can't get to my computer!) 


	3. Chapter 3

When the doorbell rang, Derek debated or not if he should answer it. He was in the shower, and was kind of enjoying the funk he’d worked up. The bathroom was steamy enough that he could ignore his stupid feelings, and focus just on the simple task of taking a shower. Derek was out of fucks to give. He’d gotten past the shock of yesterday, and forced himself to ignore the two text Stiles had sent, deleting them without reading them. Nothing good would come of that. Derek was in a weird mix of angry and hurt, and he didn’t want to. . . well. He just didn’t want to. Argent had texted him. They had a meeting with a golem named Gerry in an hour. It didn’t help that Argent kept making the absolute  _ worst _ dad jokes about the creature’s name. Argent had made it through Gerry Mandering, and Gerry Atric before Derek had hung up on him. 

The doorbell rang again, and Derek cursed under his breath. He cocked his head to the side and winced, listening. 

Stiles.

Of  _ course _ . 

Derek sighed, wondering when he’d become such a coward. He’d finally worked his way around to the fact that Stiles didn’t owe him anything. He didn’t owe him any explanations, or owe him his trust, or even his friendship. Derek’s issues were Derek’s issues, and just because he thought everything was a-okay didn’t mean that Stiles (or any of the rest of the pack) had to feel the same way. 

Still, he wasn’t ready for the drama. It was awkward, and embarrassing, and Derek was being really fucking stupid. The fact that he  _ knew _ he was being really fucking stupid didn’t help at all. Derek slung the towel around his waist and walked to the front of the loft. He pulled open the door, ignored Stiles’ wide-eyed stare, and walked back to his room to get his clothes. The loft was open, so he only had privacy in the bathroom. Derek shut the door and got dressed. There was bold, and then there was meeting Stiles dripping wet, in a too-small towel bold. 

No thanks. 

Derek forced himself to ignore everything: the sound of Stiles’ crazy heartbeat, the way that he sprung up from Derek’s couch as though he had been electrocuted, all of it. He managed to keep his face blank, and polite, and hide how much it killed him to do so. No matter how much he always tried, he never really  _ got _ emotions. Or rather, he always seemed to be operating under rules for which he didn’t have all the directions. 

“I have about fifteen minutes before I have to go meet--”

“Gerry. The Golem.” 

Derek raised an eyebrow. 

“I uh. I made Argent lie to you. You weren’t answering my texts and--” 

Derek ignored the sharp spike of anger and tried to keep his face neutral.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I’ll go. I uh. I just wanted to make sure I told you a few things. Or that you heard me. Derek I’m really sorry that I didn’t tell you that--”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Derek blurted beefore he remembered he was shutting the fuck up, and promptly shut the fuck up. 

Stiles inhaled, and Derek braced himself for a flood of words. 

“No, I know but I didn’t want you to think that I was  _ hiding _ everything from only you. I uh. I just kind of fell into this because Lydia found my fanfiction, and was like, ‘you should totally write for real’ and then I did, and it was awesome and Cora texted her and said you actually read my stuff, and that was  _ terrifyingly awesome _ and then I thought what the hell I’ll do that appearance and see if you show up, but you didn’t. You didn’t show up for hours and hours and right at the end and Lydia swore. She  _ promised _ she’d tell me when you got in line or like  _ if _ you got in line so I could do the thing I had planned out in my head and oh god, I am never talking ag--”

Derek held up one hand, palm outwards, and to his surprise, Stiles stopped babbling. Several things had clicked, and Derek was starting to get the sneaking, awful suspicion that he had missed something rather important. 

Stiles licked his lips. His eyes narrowed onto the small movement, but Derek refused to be distracted. He walked over to his kitchen counter where he had slung the bag from Books a Million. He emptied it, picked up Stiles’ first book, opened the cover and reread part of the inscription. 

> _ To D, maybe one day I will have the guts to tell you everything. _

“Am I. . . D?”

“Oh. Oh you didn’t read what I--” Stiles swallowed hard. His heartbeat was thudding in his chest and Derek realized that he had been right: Stiles was definitely hiding something.”Yeah. Yeah, you’re.. D.”

Derek refused to acknowledge the way his heart gave a funny little leap. “Tell me what?” His voice had lowered to almost a whisper, and he looked up in time to catch Stiles jerking his gaze away from Derek’s own. Stiles indicated the other book with his chin. 

Derek looked down at  _ Unreachable _ He hadn’t read the inscription in that book either. It felt like hours before he opened it, and his fingers were trembling very, very slightly.

> _ To my dad, who always has my back. To Scott, who never gave up on me. To Lyds who is my Queen, To Derek, who is the strongest man I know. To the fans, who made my little story seem worthwhile, I love you all.  _

Under it was scrawled:

> **_Derek,_ **
> 
> **_I am sorry for not being brave enough to tell you sooner. You’re the Donovan to my Steven, big guy. How’s this for a grand gesture?_ **
> 
> **_~~Wolfe S. McK~~ \--- Stiles _ **

“Oh.” 

It was so quiet that Derek heard people across the street arguing over a tv show. Derek read the words over and over, feeling. . . well. He didn’t quite know what he was feeling. He finally looked up at Stiles. Derek didn’t know what expression was on his face, but with a few steps they were mere inches apart. Derek could hear the steady thrum of Stiles’ heart beat, and smell the clean scent of his skin and just gave himself a few seconds to take it all in. Eventually though, something Stiles had said in his babbling struck him and he opened his mouth. “What.. what did you plan out in your head?” 

Derek could feel the heat of Stiles’ body and it made something in him calm for all that his own heart was thudding crazily in his chest. 

Stiles blinked slowly, his pupils dilated enough that it made Derek’s gut tighten. 

“I was going to finish what we almost started. When I realized you were reading my book, and didn’t know it was me.” 

“And what was that?” 

In answer, Stiles leaned forward, brushing his lips softly against Derek’s. Derek managed not to react, but his wolf was growling, as though waking up from a very long sleep and seeing a very tender deer laid out in front of it. For a first kiss, and given their history, it was almost impossibly gentle. Stiles’ lips were a little wet from his nervous habit of licking them, and Derek barely got a taste of him before Stiles was pulling back, tilting his head so that he could meet Derek’s gaze. 

Derek wanted to keep that look on Stiles’ face forever. 

Stiles kissed him again, and this time it was less sweet. Derek sighed, enjoying the sensation of Stiles’ lips over his. Derek kissed back, and Stiles made a low sound that Derek could feel in his chest. Derek moved his mouth away, but tilting their foreheads together, unwilling to let go completely. Stiles leaned forward and kissed just under Derek’s mouth, over his chin, and up the line of his jaw and Derek just shut his eyes and let Stiles do whatever the hell he wanted. It was probably pathetic how much he craved being touched. Each brush of Stiles’ lips felt amazing. Derek curled one hand into a fist (he just realized that he was still holding the book and flung it towards the couch) and let Stiles explore. 

When Stiles finally,  _ finally _ pulled away, Derek kissed him, hard, cradling the back of Stiles’ head and tangling his fingers in Stiles’ slightly too-long hair. He tugged a little when Stiles chased his lips with his own and seeing him look like that- face flushed, lips swollen and red from scraping over Derek’s stubble, eyes, dark and wide with arousal caused the tiny thread of Derek’s control to snap. 

Stiles cried out when his back hit the wall, and Derek chased the sound with his own mouth kissing him again and again until they were both dizzy from lack of oxygen. Derek pulled and yanked at Stiles’ shirt until it was off. Derek slotted his leg between Stiles, and hauled him up, pinning him in place with his body as he kissed over his chest. Stiles’ heart was thumping so loudly that it almost drowned out the bitten off little moans Stiles couldn’t seem to stifle. 

“You. Your. . . damn it why is this so hard?”

Derek paused and leaned so that he could meet Stiles’ wide brown gaze. He raised one eyebrow. 

Stiles blushed even more- with his shirt off Derek could see that the flush went all the way down his chest which was  _ delightful _ \- and half-heartedly waved at Derek’s hips. “Not that.” He flung his fingers towards Derek’s shirt. “ _ That _ .” 

Derek tilted his hips so that his cock pressed more firmly against Stiles and refrained from saying anything. Barely. He knew that Stiles meant his shirt, still wet from being thrown on after the shower, but for the face Stiles just made, Derek had no problems playing dumb. When Stiles hitched his leg up it changed the feeling of them pressed together, and Derek heard fabric rip as he scrambled out of his henley. There was a brief race to see who could unbutton whose jeans faster. Stiles bent and tugged on Derek’s nipple with his teeth, and Derek almost dropped him. 

“That’s. . . cheating.” Derek gasped, staring blindly at the ceiling as Stiles went back to his feet then slouched to lick and nip at his chest. 

Stiles snorted. “Says you.” He pulled away and shimmied out of his clothes, holding out his arms in a ‘tah dah!’ sort of way. “Now, if this was one of my books, I’d have been magically lubed and prepped and ready to go. But, I honestly had no expectations of anything like this happening tonight.” 

Derek froze, blinking. A horrible feeling made him jerk his horrified gaze up to meet Stiles’, but before he could say anything, Stiles rolled his eyes and smacked him gently on the top of the head. “No expectations doesn’t mean that I’m not exactly where I want to be.” He frowned thinking. “Well, not that I’d say no to the couch, or the kitchen counter. Or! Oh hey. . . your bed---”

Derek took a step forward and hauled Stiles up the wall,ignoring Stiles’ squeak of surprise. He held him there with one hand under his ass, and one hand bracing against Stiles’ stomach, leaving the other man’s dick bobbing in front of Derek’s face. Derek felt Stiles fingertips brush against his hair, and spared a second to look up. Stiles nodded ‘yes’ so hard it made Derek smirk. He held the eye contact as he opened his mouth and slowly went down on Stiles’ cock. 

“Oh shiiiit.” 

Derek would have said something, but his mouth was full. He moved his hand from Stiles’ stomach to his legs, adjusting them so that they were over his shoulders. Then he cupped Stiles’ ass with both hands, licking and sucking. 

“Gotta say- the glasses did it for me, but the super-human strength-- aw,  _ fuck _ \- is really working for me as w-w-”

Derek figured if Stiles could still talk that clearly then he wasn’t doing this right. Stiles didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, brushing them against the cords of Derek’s neck, to his shoulders, until he gripped Derek’s hair.

Derek moaned, his cock giving a huge twitch against his jeans. He focused on the cock in his mouth, sucking and bobbing his head until Stiles had tensed above him, his head smacking back against the wall. Stiles was babbling something and Derek felt the salty flood of precome a split second before Stiles came in his mouth, shuddering above him. 

They were quiet a second until Stiles flexed his fingers, and when he rubbed Derek’s head with his fingernails he  _ whined _ , pressing Stiles closer into the wall, hips jerking once against air. 

“Let me down, big guy.” Stiles tugged once and Derek almost dropped him, his strength giving out with the way his scalp seemed to be directly wired to his dick. 

The second Stiles’ feet hit the floor he launched himself at Derek, hugging him and licking into Derek’s mouth in a kiss that was just as filthy as before. It was Derek’s turn to shudder as Stiles’ sweaty, slick, sated body touched his own. When Stiles pulled away it took Derek a second to realize that they weren’t by the wall. They’d already moved past the kitchen, past the livingroom, and almost onto his bed before he realized that Stiles had been leading him through the loft, distracting him with his deep, drugging kisses. 

Stiles left him there and looked through Derek’s nightstand. He found the lube and tossed it on the bed. Derek gripped his footboard, staring at the naked Stiles in his messy bed and thought for a second that this couldn’t be real. Shit like this didn’t happen to him. It took him a second to realize that Stiles had asked him something.

“Sorry- what?”

“No condoms?” 

“Don’t need ‘em.” 

Stiles eyes narrowed. “Well, that’s hardly safe.” He looked away from Derek to look at the lube label and missed the way Derek rolled his eyes. 

“Stiles.” 

“No- it’s cool. I get it. Your life and all. I just never--”

“ _ Stiles. _ ” Derek waited until Stiles looked up at him, not able to hide the hurt and jealousy on his face, despite his words. “I don’t need them because I haven’t had sex in six years.” He waited a beat, gesturing to himself. “Plus, werewolf. Promise you can’t catch it that way.” 

Derek thought he was hilarious, but from the look on Stiles’ face, probably not so much. Then, what he said clicked and Stiles’ eyes widened. 

“Uh. Six. . . years?” 

Derek nodded watching Stiles do the math. 

“And uh, you’re sure you want  _ me _ to end that dry spell?” 

Derek tilted his palm from side to side in an 'ehhh' motion, watching as Stiles’ mouth fell open with something very like glee. 

“You--- asshole!” 

Derek grinned. Stiles threw a pillow at him, which Derek dodged, then threw the lube at him, which Derek caught. He tossed it back on the bed then took off the rest of his clothes. By now Stiles was laughing, and Derek’s face hurt from grinning like a total dumbass, and it occurred to Derek that he’d laughed more in the past two hours then he had in. . . in a really long time. 

He bent down to kiss Stiles, unsurprised when Stiles yanked him onto the bed. He rolled so that Stiles was on top of him, and their kiss slowly turned from a little sloppy to serious, to full of intent. Stiles wiggled so Derek’s cock brushed against his ass, and it wasn’t until the lube squirted onto his hand that Derek realized that Stiles had reached back to prepare himself. Derek stared up at him, listening to the slick sounds he was making, mouth a little open.

He wiggled again, and his slick hand held Derek’s cock steady and then it was Derek’s turn to moan as he slowly inched his way down. Derek pulled himself up to cup Stiles’ face in his hands, and had to bite back a bunch of really stupid words, kissing him so that he wouldn’t say anything. It took a little bit of time, and a lot more lube, but Stiles pulled his mouth away from Derek’s once he was fully seated. 

“Hey, Derek?” Stiles met his gaze with his own. Derek had to swallow twice before he could respond. He thrust a little and Stiles squeaked again and Derek changed his mind. . .. _ that _ was his new favorite sound.

“Yeah?” His own voice was low as Stiles started rocking slowly, making room. 

“Do you guys have a knot?”

Derek froze and Stiles managed to hold his gaze for a full two seconds before sputtering a laugh. “Your  _ face-- _ oh. Ohhh, wait. Really?” 

Derek buried his face in Stiles’ shoulder, tightening his arms around him so that he could hide his face. Jesus fuck, that was usually something he would work up to, not---

“Oh shit, that’s hot.” Stiles had obviously been joking about the knot, but now just as obviously a joke was the furthest thing from his mind. “You gonna knot me, Derek?” 

Derek couldn’t help the thrust of his hips. He shook his head no, and Stiles seemed to realize that Derek was embarrassed because he rubbed at Derek’s back, at his neck, and dragged his nails up over Derek’s scalp, obviously meaning for it to be soothing, but Derek couldn’t. . . he couldn’t. . .

He picked up Stiles and flipped him over onto his stomach, barely having the presence of mind to ensure that he didn’t knock his face against the foot board before Derek was on top of him. He arranged his limbs where he wanted him and had slowly, so slowly that Stiles could only moan under him, slid back inside. He hitched up Stiles’ hips and started fucking him. 

From this angle, Stiles had finally,  _ finally _ lost his words. Derek scraped his teeth over Stiles’ shoulder and Stiles moaned his name. 

Derek knew that he was holding him a little too tight, fucking him a little too hard. Stiles held himself in place with one arm, the other working over his own cock. He didn’t seem to mind. Derek knew that he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself from coming. He’d had plans, to make Stiles come at least twice more until he was a fucked out mess in his messy sheets, but there was absolutely no way that was going to happen. Derek felt himself on the trigger edge of tumbling over when he heard Stiles cry out, his ass squeezing him as he started to come.

That was it. 

Derek heard himself roar, heard Stiles’ answering whimper, and he barely managed not to collapse on top of him, but it was a very near thing. Stiles made a sound when Derek pulled out, and made another sound when Derek started to leave the bed to get a cloth or something, but the tug on his hand made him stop. 

“Just leave it. I like smelling like you. You like me smelling like you, right?” 

Derek really, really,  _ really _ did. He nodded and kissed Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles’ smile was sleepy and smug as he rolled so they were spooned together, little spoon to Derek’s big spoon. Derek didn’t know if Stiles was mind reader, or if he just liked the position, but he knew that eye contact and confessions would be a little too overwhelming. For all that it had taken them years to get here, the fact that Stiles had made his. . . grand gesture was surreal. Amazing. Unfuckingbelievable. 

“This okay?”

“Mm. Perfect.” Derek shifted so his chest pressed into Stiles’ back, and wrapped his arm around Stiles’ stomach. Night fell. Shadows crawled across the floor as the moon shifted in the sky. He listened to Stiles’ heartbeat slow, and nuzzled into the back of his neck, breathing the words he’d never told anyone else into the skin in front of him. Derek smiled at his secret, and knew that he wouldn't be able to keep it secret for long. 

He waited until Stiles was asleep before tiptoeing out of the bed. He needed to pee, and wanted a drink. He slid on some sweats and made his quiet way around his loft, enjoying the peaceful sound of Stiles’ breathing. Of knowing that he wasn't alone. And, knowing Stiles, he _wouldn't_ be alone for the foreseeable future. Derek picked up the few articles of clothing and stacked them on a chair, then made himself comfortable on the couch, curling up with the book that had started so much of this. 

When Stiles found him a few hours later, he was still smiling, dead asleep, with the book open on his chest. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAND THERE YOU HAVE IT! 
> 
> I had half a mind to make the book cover, but then I remembered that I can't do manips and my stick figures look drunk, and saved you from a fate worse than death. 
> 
> Also, fun fact. I asked like 5 people for pseudonyms for Stiles, and they all sounded like porn star names. 'Wolfe Hard Mandeep' was pretty much my favorite..... yeah. 
> 
> I hope you liked this bb! <3


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